


More Precious Than Rubies

by ChakwayAllTheWay



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer Arc, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 01:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChakwayAllTheWay/pseuds/ChakwayAllTheWay
Summary: Mulder and Scully head to Central California to investigate a murder with the same M.O. as the Alien Bounty Hunter. A strange occurrence in the morgue, however, turns the case into so much more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Set during late Season 4. Cancer Arc. UST. RST. Some OCC. Rating could change in future chapters._

_Blessed is he who finds Wisdom._  
_For her profit is better than the profit of silver_  
_And her gain better than fine gold._  
_She is more precious than rubies;_  
_And nothing you desire compares with her._  
_Long life is in her right hand;_  
_In her left hand are riches and honor._

_Proverbs 3:15_

\--

Highway 56  
San Luis Obispo County

They’d spent the last four years together, driving down back roads and chasing leads across the country. But for some reason, the view never looked more beautiful.

From the passenger seat of their Ford Taurus rental, Scully watched the sun as it slowly rose above the oak-dappled hills. The haze of morning mist was just starting to evaporate from the grassy fields along the highway.

“It’s going to be a hot one today,” she said.

“I hope you brought sunscreen,” Mulder replied, as he cracked a sunflower seed between his teeth.

Noticing Scully’s disapproving gaze, he shrugged and added sarcastically, “Breakfast of champions.”

“Why didn’t you eat something on the plane?” she asked.

“Didn’t think of it,” he said. “Besides… I didn’t see you eat anything.”

Scully blinked and bit her lip. Mulder had argued doggedly at the airport that she stay in D.C., given her current condition. But she told him she wasn’t going to just sit at home and wait to die. The six-hour plane ride had been understandably tense.

After several seconds of frosty silence, she glanced down at the case file in her lap. The crime scene photos available showed the shingled façade of an old-timey honky-tonk called the Pozo Saloon. A string of trucks and motorcycles parked outside suggested it was a frequent haunt for cowboys and bikers.

“So, what are we doing here, Mulder? Something tells me it’s not for the ambiance,” Scully deadpanned.

“Oh, don’t let the pictures fool you, Scully. The road through Pozo was once the main route from San Luis Obispo to the Central Valley, Bakersfield, and beyond,” Mulder explained. “The Pozo Saloon served as the main watering hole for every farmer, rancher, and blacksmith around. During the Gold Rush days, it was a popular place for prospectors to relax and tell stories about the golden nugget that got away. In fact, some locals say if you listen closely, you can hear the rattle of miners’ pans echoing from behind the bar.”

Scully raised her eyebrow.

“So we’re going on a ghost chase for verbose 49ers. Really, Mulder?” she said and shook her head disbelievingly. “That is just hokey … even for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Pozo Saloon  
Santa Margartia, California

The saloon stank of stale beer, sawdust, and something that smelled suspiciously like marijuana. The bartender and a lone patron sat listening to Willie Nelson crooning softly from the jukebox in the corner. Mulder approached the bar and flashed his badge.

“I’m Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully from the F.B.I. We’re here about the murder.”

The scruffy barkeep gave their badges a cursory glance and drawled, “Yeah, the Sheriff said you’d be showing up. They’re out back by the stage.”

Mulder nodded his head and started to guide Scully to a nearby door.

“There’s a stage here?” she said, surprised.

“Yep. It’s one of the most popular concert venues around. But I guess that’s not saying much if you’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Shielding their eyes from the blazing, midday sun, the agents made their way along a dirt path leading to the stage. Scully noticed on the ground a menagerie of crushed beer cans, food wrappers, and one or two colorful glass pipes.

“Just what kind of concert are we talking about, Mulder?”

“4:20,” replied a gravelly, slurred voice.

“Excuse me?” Scully scoffed and turned toward the voice.

“The Higher Grounds Music Festival, also known as 4:20,” said a scraggly-haired man kneeling by the stage. He stood and wiped the dirt off his tie-dyed shorts. “The name’s Comet. I’m the festival manager.”

Scully fought mightily not to roll her eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Comet,” Mulder said and shook the man’s proffered hand. “Can you tell us what happened here?"

“It’s a damned shame, really. We were all just minding our own business, jamming to some tunes when those biker goons showed up looking for a fight. Said something about a bunch of stoned degenerates desecrating their bar,” Comet explained. “Ruby must’ve gotten caught in the middle.”

“Ruby? That’s the victim, right?” Scully inquired.

“Yeah. Poor thing. Ruby was such a sweetheart; she wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he replied glumly. “It makes what they did to her even worse.”

“What they did? I’m sorry, Comet. The case file didn’t offer a lot of information about the cause of death.”

Comet blanched and glanced disbelievingly between Scully and Mulder, who was now chewing nervously on his thumbnail.

“She was stabbed in the back of the neck with… with what must’ve been an ice pick—probably the one from the bar, cuz we can’t find it now,” Comet gushed. “I wish I’d been there so I could’ve stopped it or so I could at least ID the sonuvabitch who did it.”

“An ice pick,” Scully echoed, her eyes growing large.

“Yeah. I figured that’s why you were here,” Comet continued. “Mr. Mulder, you said on the phone—"

“Comet, you said that Ruby’s boyfriend, Paul, was at the concert, too. But now he’s missing,” Mulder blurted. “Any idea where he could’ve gone?”

Comet paused to think. “He disappeared right after it happened, which is weird cuz you think he’d want to catch the guy who killed his girl. God knows I would. Only place I can think of is this cabin he and Ruby used to stay at out by the lake. I gave the address to the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Thank you, Comet. You’ve been most helpful,” Scully cut in. She nodded curtly and broke away at a fast pace, tossing over her shoulder: “Agent Mulder, a word please.”

Mulder shared a commiserate grimace with Comet and followed after her like a scolded puppy with his tail between his legs.

After several hundred feet, she stopped abruptly and spun around.

“An ice pick! Mulder, why didn’t you tell me the alien bounty hunter was involved?” she seethed.

“Scully—"

“That’s why we’re here, right? You think the alien bounty hunter killed Ruby,” she continued. “What the hell, Mulder. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I’m your partner!”

Mulder stepped toward her, hand outstretched, and whispered urgently: “Scully, your nose.”

Scully jerked her head back instinctively. She could feel the telltale trickle of blood on her upper lip, but she persisted.

“I don’t give a shit about my nose, Mulder. I want to know why you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Scully. I didn’t tell you about the cause of death because I didn’t want to put your health at risk by upsetting you. I tried to get you to stay home. I failed on both accounts, obviously.”

“I’m not a child, Mulder!” she spat. “You don’t get to make decisions for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just—"

“You know what? I don’t want to hear it, Mulder. I’m fine. I just need to clean up.”

“OK,” Mulder mumbled lamely as he watched Scully storm off toward the bar.

Scully slammed her palm against the bathroom door with the sign marked, “Cowgirls,” causing it to smack against the wooden wall with a loud thud. She tore a handful of paper towels from the dispenser by the sink and started wiping the blood from under her nose. In the bathroom mirror she could see the sheen of tears in her reflection’s eyes.

“Damn him,” she growled and tossed the bloodied paper into the trashcan. She stood still for a moment, filling her lungs with a deep breath.

Slowly she turned back to the sink and ran the faucet. Willing her hands to stop trembling, she scooped up the cool water and splashed it against her face. She wiped the excess water from her eyes and glanced up into the mirror.

“Let me help,” her reflection whispered.

But it wasn’t her reflection.

“What the—“ Scully gasped and stumbled backward.

In the crusty mirror she saw a young girl, not more than 20, with dirty blonde hair, wearing dangly earrings and a revealing, spaghetti-strap tank top.

“Let me help,” she said again.

Several earsplitting thumps against the bathroom door startled Scully out of her trance.

“You OK in there, Scully?” Mulder’s worried voice asked.

Scully glanced back at the mirror to find her own reflection staring back at her.

“I’m coming, Mulder. Give me a second,” she replied.

She grabbed some more paper towels and blotted her face dry before heading for the door. Mulder gave her the once over and then settled on her face.

“The Coroner’s Office called. The body’s ready, if you’re up for it,” he said.

“Yes,” Scully replied and started for the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

Coroner’s Office  
San Luis Obispo County Sheriff’s Department

The damp coolness of the morgue washed over Scully like a soothing balm—a strange sentiment, yes, but this was her territory.

The coroner, a gaunt man with horn-rimmed glasses and a receding hairline, ushered them toward the steel cadaver slab in the center of the room. He efficiently switched on the overhead light, lifted the sheet, and picked up his clipboard.

“Ruby Walter, age 19. Cause of death: Penetrating head trauma. Murder weapon appears to have punctured the occipital bone and entered the victim’s cerebellum,” the coroner droned. “We’ve left her on her front so you can get a better look at the entry point.”

Scully bent down to inspect the wound, but was distracted by Mulder fidgeting in the background.

“I’m going to grab some coffee, Scully,” he muttered. “You want any?”

“Not while I’m performing an autopsy, no,” she snapped, and then added softly, “but thanks.”

The coroner eyed both of them warily and then offered, “I’ll show you where it is.” He started to peel off his gloves and then asked Scully, “You good in here?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this," Scully replied.

The two men shuffled out of the morgue, one after the other, leaving Scully alone with the body. She swabbed the wound for evidence and then set about measuring its length and depth.

“The entry point of the weapon seems to be higher than in most cases involving the Alien Bounty Hunter, located in the base of the skull rather than the neck,” she remarked into her tape recorder. “It could be that he got sloppy or that he wasn’t involved in the murder at all.”

Next she made a note to ask for the imaging scans and toxicology report and then snapped some photos for her autopsy report. Finally, she decided to flip the body over so she could look for any other unusual markings.

Ruby was small—not more than 110 pounds—so Scully had no trouble rolling her over with some help from the industrial-strength sheet and gravity. She stepped back to get a better look and gasped. Lying before her was the very girl whose face Scully had seen reflected in the bathroom mirror at the saloon. Scully felt her knees go weak and clenched the medical slab for support.

“Oh… God,“ she panted.

Suddenly, she heard the same lilting voice as before, but louder: “Let. Me. In. I can help.”

“Wha—" Scully sputtered before crumpling to the floor.

Mulder chose that exact moment to reenter the morgue, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. “I know you said no coffee, Scully, but I thought we could both use the pick-me-up,” he drawled before noticing his partner’s wilted form on the floor before him.

“Scully! Jesus. Are you OK?” he yelped and slammed the coffee down on a nearby table. He rushed to Scully’s side and gently scooped her limp body into his arms.

“Scully, wake up!” he pleaded. “Talk to me Scully. What happened?”

The diminutive redhead slowly blinked her eyes open and turned her face toward Mulder.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“What happened?”

“I just asked you the same thing.”

“Ruby…”

“What about Ruby, Scully?”

“She spoke to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Scully’s head lolled to the side. Mulder sighed and smoothed an auburn strand of hair behind her ear.

“Come on, Scully. I think it’s time we called it a day. Let’s head to the motel so you can get some rest.”

She nodded silently as Mulder helped her to her feet.


	4. Chapter 4

Highway 58

Mulder stole glimpses of Scully as he drove along the highway. She seemed to be in a daze from whatever had happened to her in the morgue. His heart and his brain warred over what to say. His heart finally won.

"Scully, are you OK?" he asked.

He waited for her usual four-lettered response, but it didn't come. He'd grown to hate the word "fine" almost as much as he hated the Cancer Man, but right now he would've given anything to hear it come out of her mouth.

He swallowed his heart back into his chest and tried again: "It's just, at the morgue you said—"

Scully stirred from her trance and rocketed forward in her seat.

"You know what we need?" she exclaimed. "Some good tunes!"

Her perfectly manicured fingers grasped the radio dial on the center console and started to spin it back and forth, flooding the car with static and occasional bursts of garbled song.

"I—I don't think there's any reception out here, Scully," Mulder stammered.

She continued her search, undeterred.

Through the static came a bouncy, synthesized hip-hop beat.

"Yes!" Scully squealed and turned up the volume. She threw her arms up in the air and started to roll her hips rhythmically to the music.

A female vocalist rapped in a sassy voice:

_"Hot to trot, make any man's eyes pop_  
_She use what she got to get whatever she don't got_  
_Fellas drool like fools, but then again they're only human_  
_The chick was a hit because her body was boomin'"_  


After several seconds, Scully turned to Mulder and started singing along to the chorus.

_"Let's talk about sex, baby_  
_Let's talk about you and me_  
_Let's talk about all the good things_  
_And the bad things that may be_  
_Let's talk about sex_  
_Let's talk about sex"_  


Mulder gaped at Scully, his mouth opening and closing like a caught fish.

She giggled and then sobered and looked at him quizzically.

"Mulder, why don't we ever talk about sex?"

The car lurched as Mulder's foot accidentally slid from the accelerator to the brake.

"I… uuhhh..." he floundered.

"Haven't you ever thought about it?" Scully continued.

"About sex? I mean, yeah … of course," Mulder replied sheepishly.

"No, about us. Sexually. Don't you think we'd be good together?" she asked.

Mulder flushed a deep shade of red, from his neck to his ears.

"I'll take that as a yes," Scully said with a smirk. "Don't be such a prude, Mulder! It's only natural, given how much time we spend together. Lord knows I've thought about it."

Mulder locked eyes with his partner.

"You have?"

"Well, duh!"

"Scully… I just thought…" he trailed off, obviously struggling to express himself.

By then, they'd pulled up to the motel. The Taurus rolled into a parking spot and Mulder threw the gearshift into park.

Scully watched him closely with narrowed eyes and then snaked her hand around the gearshift and firmly squeezed his upper thigh.

"You just thought what?" she purred.

"Sculleee!" Mulder yelped and nearly leapt out of his seat.

"Whoa there, cowboy!" she snickered.

"Scully," Mulder gasped and then took a deep, calming breath. "It's been a long day and we're both tired. How about we get some rest and start fresh in the morning."

Disappointment flashed across Scully's face, causing Mulder to start uttering a mantra of "shitshitshitshit" in his brain. But the look of disappointment soon blossomed into a coquettish smile. She leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Whatever you say, Fox."

She then unbuckled her seat belt and scampered out of the car, leaving behind a very confused—and very aroused—Fox Mulder.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi Mountain Motor Lodge  
Santa Margarita, California

It took Mulder three tries to unlock the door to his motel room. After gaining access, he made a beeline for the bathroom and turned on the shower. He wanted the water nice and cold. Mulder stripped off his suit and underwear and stepped gingerly into the icy deluge. He dunked his head in the water and scrubbed his face.

“What the hell just happened?” he muttered.

He and Scully had always had a flirtatious relationship. Or, at least, a relationship in which he flirted and she smirked and rolled her eyes. But this, this was … he didn’t know what this was. He’d read articles about brain tumors causing personality changes in patients. Jesus, maybe Scully—no. No, she was tired. That’s what it was. They’d been working for close to 20 hours straight. Exhaustion could make anyone a little slaphappy. He snorted and grinned: Dana Katherine Scully, slaphappy. That was one for the books; right up there with Flukeman and the Fiji Mermaid.

Mulder’s stomach let out an angry growl. He needed food—now—and no doubt Scully did, too. He quickly changed into sweats and a T-shirt and popped next door to see if she wanted to get some takeout. His knocks, however, went unanswered. Reluctantly, he went back to his room, ordered a pizza, and started looking for something good to watch on TV. 

_She must’ve passed out as soon as we got back_ , he thought, as he flipped through the channels. At least she’s finally getting some rest.

_Thump_. Mulder startled awake. He wiped the grit out of his eyes and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 2 a.m. A booming bassline bombarded his ears. He reached for the TV remote, only to find it was already on mute. 

_Probably some asshole kid blaring rock music_ , Mulder grumbled to himself, but then paused and noted the direction from which the noise was flowing.

_Scully? What in the world?_

He soon found himself knocking on her door again. He pounded on it several times before letting himself in.

“Scully?” he shouted. But she was nowhere to be seen. On the motel dresser sat a large boombox spouting music at an obscenely loud decibel. He walked across the room and switched it off.

“Scully, where are you?”

“Oh, hey Mulder! I’m in the bathroom,” she called out.

“What were you listening to?” he asked as he walked toward the open door.

“Garbage,” she stated.

“You can say that again,” he joked.

“It’s a band, Mulder,” she chided.

“Whatever you say, Scully,” Mulder replied as he walked into the bathroom. “I could hear it from my room—"

He froze in his tracks. Lounging in the bathtub amid a mountain of bubbles was a very wet, and very naked, Scully. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail, and pinched between the fingers of her right hand was a smoldering joint.

He stared at her and then at the joint. Scully followed the path his eyes took.

“Did you want some?” she asked and then sat up to offer him a puff. The movement caused her breasts to pop out of the foamy bubbles.

Mulder inhaled sharply and spun around so his back was to Scully. He heard the water shift as she rose from the tub and then the quiet rustle of a towel.

“I—I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t mean to intrude,” he stuttered.

“Don’t worry about it, Mulder,” she hummed as she floated by him.

She glanced back over her shoulder and added with a devilish grin, “Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Mulder waited a beat for his overwhelmed brain to kick in and then followed after her.

“The last time I saw you after taking a bath, I recall there being more clothes,” he quipped. “Even if it was just a bra and underwear.”

She paused and turned on him, a predatory gleam in her eyes.

“Oh. In that case, do you like what you see?” she purred and started to advance on her bewildered partner.

Mulder swallowed thickly and clenched his fists. Scully was standing so close he could smell the sweet honeysuckle of her bubble bath.

She nuzzled his stubbled cheek before pulling back and looking into his clouded eyes.

“I think you do,” she murmured seductively and then swooped in for a passionate kiss.

The sensual caress of Scully’s lips triggered something in Mulder he’d been trying desperately to ignore. In a matter of seconds, he went from concerned, respectful partner to full-out caveman, framing Scully’s face with his strong hands and pushing her forcefully against the wall.

Scully immediately circled her arms around Mulder’s neck, causing her towel to inch down her chest. Mulder used the material’s movement as his cue to further explore her freshly exposed skin. He kissed feverishly against her jaw and then down her creamy, white neck. Meanwhile, his hand—seeming to have a mind of its own—worked its way up her body and settled on her breast.

“Oh, Fox…” Scully moaned.

The use of his first name jarred Mulder out of his sex-fueled haze. He stumbled back from Scully, who was practically glowing in the darkened motel room.

“Scully… Dana. What are we doing?” he asked in a shaky voice.

“Well, I thought that was obvious. I want you,” she replied bluntly.

Mulder sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a big whoosh.

“I want you, too. Believe me, I do,” he said. “But… but if we’re going to do this, I have to know that it’s what you truly want.”

“Mulder, I told you—" she replied with an exasperated sigh.

“I know what you said, Scully. But the truth is, you’ve been acting strange ever since we left the morgue, and I just want to make sure…”

“What, Mulder?”

“I just want to make sure it’s you that’s acting this way and not—not the cancer,” he ended flatly. “I’ve read medical reports about brain tumors causing personality changes.”

Scully glared at Mulder and wrapped her towel tightly around her chest.

“Wow, Mulder. ‘Scully’s got the hots for me, so it must be the cancer,’” she spat, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know who to be offended for more; me or you for having such low regard for yourself.”

She crossed to the bed and sat down. The sultry siren had disappeared, and in her place sat a sad, little girl. Mulder sat down next to her and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

“Scully, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel undesirable because that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re a beautiful woman,” he told her.

She turned away from him shyly, but Mulder grabbed her chin and guided her face back toward him. He leaned down so that they were eye to eye. “Scully, you are—so beautiful. I just want to make sure that you’re OK. I’d hate to do anything we’d both regret.”

Scully sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye. “Honestly, I don’t know what I am, Mulder. I feel strange, but I also feel good; the best I’ve felt in a long time, actually,” she said.

Mulder smiled and waited patiently for her to continue.

“I saw Ruby,” she told him after a long pause. “When I was in the bathroom at the saloon.”

“What? But that doesn’t—"

“I know,” she cut in. “I rinsed my face in the sink and when I looked up, I saw her reflection in the mirror. She said, ‘Let me help.’ And then, when I was in the morgue, she spoke to me again. But that time she said, ‘Let me in. I can help.’ I should have told you about it, Mulder, but I was scared. Visual and auditory hallucinations are symptoms of metastasized brain cancer.”

Mulder bit his lip. At a loss for words, he wrapped his arm around Scully’s shoulders and planted a soft kiss on her temple. “I’m glad you’re telling me now,” he whispered. “But you said you feel good, right?”

“Yes. I have more energy now, as you saw,” she replied, her cheeks reddening slightly. “I feel stronger mentally, too. It’s like someone has come in and taken away my fear.”

Mulder felt his chest swell. It took a lot for Scully to admit to him that she was afraid. And now she was happy, which made him even happier.

“That’s wonderful, Scully,” he said with a genuine smile. But her comment still niggled at his heart. He grabbed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Looking earnestly into her eyes, he said, “But, Scully, I hope that you’re not afraid of me.”

“Mulder, I’m not—"

“No, I’m serious, Scully. You never have to be afraid of me because… because I lo—"

A shrill ring cut into the conversation, filling the nearly silent room. It continued to ring until Scully tore her luminous eyes away from Mulder’s and started searching for her cell phone. She found it under a pillow.

“Scully,” she answered.

Mulder watched as she absorbed the information being shared with her.

“Thanks. We’re on our way,” she said.

She hung up the cell phone and stared at it in her palm.

“That was the Sheriff,” she told him. “Someone reported seeing Paul Thomas, Ruby’s boyfriend, at a cabin off of Blue Oak Road.”

Mulder blinked several times before answering.

“Then we’d better get dressed,” he said. He pushed himself off the bed and headed toward the door.

“Mulder…” the plaintive note in her voice caused him to pause. He turned and looked at her questioningly. She held his gaze for several seconds before faltering.

“I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“OK, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”


	6. Chapter 6

Blue Oak Road  
Santa Margarita Lake

Scully shielded her eyes against the swirling red and blue lights of the sheriff’s cruiser as they pulled onto Blue Oak Road. She rolled down her window and greeted the uniformed deputy.

“Good evening, agents. Or should I say good morning?” the young man said with a smile. “The cabin’s about a mile down the road. We’re parking in the brush here and going the rest of the way on foot.”

“Good thing I brought my sneakers,” Mulder joked under his breath to Scully, but her eyes were trained on something in the distance. 

“Do you see something?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she replied, distractedly. “No… let’s get going.”

They parked the car and went to join the task force under a huge oak tree. The sheriff, a stern looking man with the build of an athlete gone to pasture, nodded to Mulder and Scully as they approached.

“We’ve been keeping tabs on the Walters’ family cabin hoping Paul would show up and tonight we finally got lucky,” he told the group. “Keep your flashlights and your safetys off—we want to catch him by surprise.”

They set off down the road, trekking silently under the stars.

After several hundred feet, Scully tugged on Mulder’s jacket.

“Come on, Mulder. I know a shortcut,” she whispered and started pulling him into the woods. 

“I don’t think we should leave the group, Scully,” he replied.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” she urged. “We’re rushing in all cloak-and-dagger, like we know Paul’s a guilty man, but I don’t think he did it. We need to get to him first so we can hear what he has to say.”

Mulder hesitated on the path.

“Do you trust me?” Scully murmured.

He nodded fiercely and followed her into the trees.

Scully picked her way along a deer path, Mulder at her heels. Within minutes they could see a small cabin in the distance. Scully stuck her arm out to stop her partner.

“Let me go in first,” she said. “He’ll trust me,” 

“Scully, I’m not letting you go in there alone,” Mulder told her. “I know you have a strong feeling about this, but the truth is Paul Thomas has no reason to trust you. He has no idea who you are.”

“OK, you’re right,” she conceded. “We’ll go in together. But no weapons—at least not yet.”

They advanced on the cabin, two dark silhouettes against the grass, the smaller one taking the lead. When they got to the back door, Scully jiggled the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. She was about test the window when the door swung open to reveal the long barrel of a shotgun. Mulder instinctively pushed Scully behind him and reached for his gun.

“Not so fast,” snarled a voice in the shadows. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t blow your head off.”

Scully stepped out from behind Mulder.

“Because,” she said, “Ruby sent us.”

“Ruby’s dead,” the voice spat.

“And the sheriff thinks you killed her, Paul,” Scully continued.

“I would never hurt Ruby,” Paul replied.

“I know. That’s why we’re here,” Scully said. “The sheriff’s task force is on its way to apprehend you.”

“Why the hell should I believe you, lady?” Paul demanded through the darkness.

“Scully, I think we should just go,” Mulder cut in, his hands raised in supplication. “OK, Mr. Thomas? We just came to warn you—"

“Mulder—” Scully said, ire growing in her voice.

“Wait. You’re Mulder and Scully? From the X-Files?” Paul asked.

“Yes…” Mulder stated cautiously. “You’ve heard of the X-Files?”

Miraculously, Paul lowered his gun and motioned the agents inside. Mulder stared at Scully, who nodded her approval. For once in their partnership, Mulder found himself playing the role of skeptic. It was downright spooky. On a leap of faith, he followed them both into the cabin.

Paul propped his shotgun against the wall and checked between lowered blinds for the approaching posse.

“My name isn’t Paul Thomas. I don’t even have a name,” he said. “I’m an alien-human hybrid; the product of a genetic experiment gone wrong.”

Suddenly, the beam of Mulder’s flashlight filled the room and settled on the face of Kurt Crawford, the former-Syndicate-scientist-turned-MUFON-member who, with his fellow clones, worked tirelessly to help abductees.

“You—I thought you were all dead,” Mulder exclaimed.

“Jesus, put that light out!” the clone hissed and then added, “I’m the last of my kind. I fled Allentown after the bounty hunter found our clinic. I contacted Ruby via the MUFON network and she offered me a place to stay. We holed up here for a couple of weeks, but she went stir-crazy. She convinced me to go to that concert at Pozo—said I deserved a night of fun after everything I’d been through. I shouldn’t have listened to her. Now she’s dead, just like everyone else, and it’s all my fault.”

Scully put a comforting hand on the clone’s shoulder.

“It’s OK. She knows it wasn’t your fault,” she said gently. “What happened at the saloon?” 

“I went to get us some drinks at the bar,” he said, “and the bartender… I could tell something was off. I could sense it was him—the alien bounty hunter. I have no idea how he found me. He jumped the bar and came at me with the stiletto, and Ruby… she barged in just as he was getting close and pushed me out of the way. So he stabbed her instead of me. I wanted to stay and help her, but I ran.”

Scully enveloped the grief-stricken drone in her arms.

“Shhh, shhhh… I forgive you,” she whispered.

The poignant scene was cut short by the sound of crunching gravel. Mulder spied out the window the young deputy prowling up the walkway.

“It’s the deputy from the clearing, but where’s the rest of the task force?” he said.

“That’s no deputy,” the clone replied as he looked out the window. “That’s the bartender—the alien bounty hunter—he’s back! You two have to get out of here!”

He cocked his shotgun and backed away from the front door. Mulder grabbed Scully’s arm and started pulling her toward the back of the cabin.

“Mulder, we can’t leave him! We have to help,” she declared and drew out her Glock. 

“Scully, please. This isn’t your fight!” Mulder pleaded. 

Just then the front door busted off its hinges, sending wood chips flying. In charged the deputy, his face and body shifting seamlessly to that of the alien bounty hunter. In his fist gleamed the menacing silver of the alien stiletto. The clone lifted the gun to his shoulder and aimed for the big man’s head, but the shot missed, splintering the doorframe behind him. 

Mulder used the temporary distraction to wrap his arms around Scully’s waist and haul her backward. She thrashed angrily against his body.

“Let me go, Mulder!” she screamed and broke loose.

“Scully, don’t!” Mulder cried.

She ran back toward the drone, who was trying to reload his shotgun with shaking hands. The alien bounty hunter reached out and knocked the gun aside. Scully launched herself at the giant, but he batted her off like a bothersome fly. She crashed into an end table next to a ratty, old couch. Her gun went spinning against the hardwood floor.

“Scully!” Mulder yelped. He was torn between helping his lifeless partner and the clone, who was now cowering beneath the raised spike in the bounty hunter’s hand.

Mulder broke toward Scully just as the bounty hunter sunk his stiletto into Paul Thomas’s neck. A distraught Mulder slid next to Scully and checked her pulse. It was still going strong. He raised his Glock at the retreating form of the bounty hunter and fired two shots, but they missed their mark.

“Scully,” Mulder called, her name a solemn prayer on his lips. He carefully ran his fingers through her hair, searching for blood or, God forbid, a fracture. Not finding anything, he called more loudly, “Scully, wake up. Please.” 

She uttered a faint groan. “Paul…”

Mulder eyed the fizzing, green pool of acid on the cabin floor. “He’s gone, Scully,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sierra Vista Medical Center  
San Luis Obispo

Scully sat in her hospital bed, picking at her flawless fingernails. The nurse had just cleared away her breakfast, which Mulder watched her eat like a nervous mother hen.

When it got to the point that Scully expected her partner to spoon-feed her, airplane-style, she asked him to go to the lobby to get her a magazine. Thrilled to finally feel useful, Mulder bounded out of the room, throwing over his shoulder, “I don’t think they have Playgirl here, Scully, but I’ll do my best.”

Scully had smirked and rolled her eyes in the usual fashion, but as she sat in the uncomfortable bed, her good humor started to fade. The doctors confirmed she was fracture and concussion free several hours after admitting her to the small, regional hospital. But upon learning of her current medical condition, the lead doctor said he wanted to hold her for more tests.

Frankly, she didn’t want to hear the results. She just wanted to enjoy the time she had left—however much that might be. She glanced up to see Mulder waltzing back into the room, a pleased smiled on his face.

“You’re in luck, Scully. They have a copy of Cosmo! Are you ready to take this month’s quiz? ’20 Things You Should Have Done in Bed By Now?’” Mulder asked and waggled his eyebrows.

Before Scully could answer, someone cleared her throat from the doorway. Both agents turned with equally nervous expressions on their faces to look at a woman in a white lab coat.

“Ms. Scully, my name is Dr. Vincent. I’m the head oncologist here at Sierra Vista,” the woman said as she stepped into the room. She gave Scully a polite smile, glanced at Mulder standing next to her, and paused. 

“It’s OK, Dr. Vincent,” Scully said with a sigh. “This is my partner, Agent Fox Mulder. Whatever you have to say can be said in front of him.”

She nodded and continued, “The doctor on duty in the ER asked me to take a look at your brain scans.”

Mulder unconsciously stepped closer to Scully’s bed and reached for her hand. She accepted it and threaded her fingers through his.

The doctor took a large sheet of MRI film and slipped it into the light box on the wall. She switched it on and turned to the agents.

“I have good news,” she said and pointed to a small, white mass circled in red. “It appears your tumor has shrunk considerably.”

Both Scully and Mulder stared at the doctor in disbelief.

“It’s true that you’ve elected to stop treatment?” the woman continued.

Scully swallowed thickly and nodded. “Ye-yes…”

“Remarkable,” the doctor said. “Normally we only see progress like this after extensive rounds of palliative radiation.”

“What does that mean? Is it operable now?” Mulder cut in.

Dr. Vincent’s face fell slightly. “No, unfortunately the tumor is still inoperable due to its location. But I’d say you have a much greater chance of experiencing success with future treatments,” she said, adding, “there’s a specialist doing some amazing work in Georgetown.”

Scully took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

“Great. I’d be happy to send these scans to his office, if you’d like.”

“That’d be wonderful, Dr. Vincent. Thank you,” Scully replied.

The doctor nodded kindly and left the room, closing the door behind her. Mulder waited until she was gone and then spun around and wrapped his arms around his stunned partner. He kissed her cheek and murmured against her ear, “Scully… Scully, this is amazing.”

Scully welcomed his affection, but stayed silent. After several long seconds, Mulder pulled back and stared into her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She said she could help me,” she whispered more to herself than to Mulder.

“Who are you talking about, Scully?”

“Ruby,” she uttered, and then added more loudly. “When I saw her in the morgue, she said she could help me. I thought she was talking about solving her murder.”

Mulder nodded, and added, “I think she did help us, Scully.”

“I know. We never would have reached Paul if I hadn’t known where to go. Ruby did that. But I think she helped me, too—with the cancer.”

Mulder smiled, disbelievingly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Scully? That a spectral pothead shrunk your cancer?"

“I know how it sounds, Mulder,” Scully conceded. “But she said, ‘Let me in. I can help.’ I know it’s scientifically impossible, but I think she did help me.”

Mulder smiled and wrapped Scully in his arms once more. “Now I’ve heard everything,” he whispered and planted a gentle kiss on her head.


	8. Epilogue

Scully’s apartment  
Georgetown  
One week later

Mulder knocked gently on the door to Scully’s apartment and took a step back. As he waited, he inspected the bouquet of deep-red roses in his hands. Not long ago, he’d stood in his neighborhood flower shop debating for an inordinate amount of time what kind of flowers to get Scully. Finally, the fatherly looking florist had taken pity on him and asked, “Who is she, son?”

Mulder cleared his throat and answered, “She’s… she’s my partner.”

The old man eyed the service weapon peeking out from under Mulder’s jacket and the lovesick look on his boyish face. “But you wish she was something more,” he said.

Mulder sighed and rubbed his brow. “It’s that obvious?” he asked.

The man chuckled and pointed to a cooler to Mulder’s right.

“Roses,” he said. “You can never go wrong with roses.”

Mulder selected a small, but elegant bouquet and thanked the man for his help. As he turned to leave, the florist called after him, “Just tell her how you feel, son. That usually works best… but flowers definitely don’t hurt.”

As he replayed the encounter in his mind, Mulder uttered under his breath, “That’s easier said than done, old man.”

At that exact moment, the door in front of him swung open.

“Mulder,” Scully greeted him, an affectionate grin tugging at her lips. When she noticed the roses, her grin blossomed into a full-out smile. She grasped the bouquet in her hands and leaned forward to inhale its fragrant scent. Mulder took advantage of the unguarded moment and let his eyes roam over Scully’s face. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, and her freckled cheeks were a flushed peach color. Even her auburn hair had recaptured its healthy sheen. He was still admiring the miraculous change before him when Scully’s sapphire eyes glanced up and locked with his. 

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yes,” he replied, his mouth suddenly dry.

She stepped back to give him access to her home, and he gladly stepped over the threshold.

“I’ll put them in some water,” she said. “Just make yourself comfortable.”

Mulder nodded and made his way to the couch. It’d been a week since they’d returned from California; hardly enough time to process the myriad emotions stirred by the case. Mulder’s heart swelled with tremendous gratitude for Ruby Walter, who essentially cured Scully’s cancer from beyond the grave. In equal measure, he felt guilty about his failure to protect Paul Thomas from the Alien Bounty Hunter. He’d spent several sleepless nights worrying about whether Ruby would, as a result, reverse her benevolent gesture, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. 

Underneath all of that, he could feel an intensified sexual energy between Scully and himself. They’d tasted the forbidden fruit and now they wanted more—at least, he did. And he hoped she did, too. The couch cushions shifted slightly next to Mulder, drawing him from his silent reverie. 

“Scully, I—”

“Mulder, we—”

They both paused and stared at each other, a mix of humor and fear in their eyes.

“You first,” Scully told him.

Several seconds passed before Mulder spoke again. “I was just thinking about the case… about Ruby,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about her, too,” Scully told him.

“Do you still believe that she helped us with the case? And that she shrunk your cancer?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied simply and honestly. “She wanted to help me find Paul, and she wanted to help me be well.”

“How can you be so certain?” 

Scully fell silent for a moment and then continued: “After she spoke to me in the morgue, something changed inside me. It was like she was there with me, guiding me, leading me to Paul.”

“Are you saying… that she possessed you?” Mulder queried, his eyebrow doing a formidable impersonation of his partner’s.

Scully shook her head and continued, “No, not possessed… but she was there. I could sense her.”

Mulder nodded his agreement and added with an impish smile, “She definitely made her presence known.”

“What do you mean?” Scully asked. 

_Busted._ The look on Mulder’s face clearly stated that he had revealed too much. “It’s just… you didn’t seem like yourself,” he sputtered.

“What, because I knew the lyrics to a Salt-n-Pepa song and smoked a joint?” Scully said with a laugh.

“Let’s just say it was a whole new side to the Dana Katherine Scully I know and love,” Mulder replied. _Oh shit. Did I just?_ he thought.

Scully’s small hand shot out and grabbed his.

_I did._

“Mulder… do you?”

He squeezed her hand urgently in response.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, Scully’s slight form straddled his lap. She grasped his face between her hands and enveloped his mouth in a passionate kiss. 

Mulder sat frozen on the couch, wondering if he’d somehow fallen asleep and entered a longstanding dream. Then Scully’s tongue brushed tentatively against the corner of his mouth, causing him to groan audibly and thread his fingers through her soft tresses. 

Their tongues slid against each other sensually for what felt like minutes before Mulder broke the kiss and rested his forehead against his parnters. They stayed like that together in the apartment, which was silent except for the sound of their mingled breath.

“Scully,” Mulder gasped. 

“I love you, too, Mulder,” she whispered.

At that very moment, Mulder’s heart sprouted wings and started to float out of his chest. This feeling, right here, he thought, is the greatest X-File of them all. Scully resumed her ministrations, planting feather-light kisses along his cheekbone before reaching the delicate edge of his ear.

“Don’t worry, Mulder,” she uttered breathlessly. “It’s me. It’s all me.”

Mulder released breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Ruby’s gone,” Scully continued. “But she helped me see how much you mean to me. She gave me back my life, and I don’t want to waste it.”

Mulder placed his hand on Scully’s cheek and turned her face to meet his. “I don’t, either,” he said.

Without losing eye contact, Mulder pushed Scully off of his lap and guided her down to the couch. She stared up at him with a newfound sense of purpose, and started to undo the buttons of her formfitting sweater. The fabric parted, revealing to Mulder the creamy white skin of her chest and torso.

“No bra, Agent Scully?” Mulder quipped.

“I’m full of surprises,” she drawled.

Mulder’s conspiratorial laughter died on his lips as he was treated to the sight of Scully’s naked breasts. Gently, reverently, he lowered his face to her chest and placed a kiss against her sternum. Scully felt warm tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes and slowly trickle into her hairline.

“I love you, Dana Katherine Scully,” Mulder whispered, before capturing a dusky nipple in his mouth.

“Oh, Mulder,” she breathed. “I love you, too.”


End file.
